Maggie Potter: The Girl That Isn't Seen
by MarigoldMonarch
Summary: Growing up with a slightly crazy old woman was easy, attempting to become a powerful and recognized witch while being the older twin to a boy who defeated the dark lord at the age of one, not so easy.
1. Field Of Innocence

**Title:** Maggie Potter: The girl that wasn't seen.

 **Author:** MarigoldMonarch

 **Summary** : Growing up with a slightly crazy old woman was easy, attempting to become a powerful and recognized witch while being the older twin to a boy who defeated the dark lord at the age of one, not so easy.

 **Author** **'s Notes:** Maggie scored a seventeen on the Mary-sue litmus test, which is really good for most original characters. The chapters will be one to three thousand words long. I hope you enjoy my fanfiction. I worked really hard on it. Some of this stuff that will be mentioned will be after her time, because I am after her time. Which is really strange to think about. It's difficult to find things to relate to before your time, so I apologize for any confusion over that.

I mean "seen" metaphorically, referring to no one noticing her in favor of her brother. This fanfiction is about her journey of trying to get over that. Of being something people will one day look back, bump their fist on their chest and say "Respect." She doesn't exactly have eidetic memory, but something more than that, more like Kim Peek's ability at being able to memorize more than 9000+ books.

Chapter Title: Field Of Innocence

 _I still remember the world_  
 _From the eyes of a child_  
 _Slowly those feelings_  
 _Were clouded by what I know now_

Maggie's POV-

Light splatters of rain plopped against the heavy jacket I had on. It certainly wasn't a rain jacket, but more of a blanket of security. Nobody wanted to be near the girl who resembled a nerd, even without glasses. I guess people sensed the natural insecurity that just permeated the oxygen in the air around me.

It was better that way, I guess. My books overshadowed the need for friends and human contact. The smell of paper was better than the smell of puberty.

My denim colored converse were covered in watery mud. The liquid sopped off with each stomp on the welcoming carpet of an old library. The scent of home rose into my nostrils and I wanted to sigh in relief.

"I'm here." I announced to the near deaf older woman sorting the last aisle of books. She muttered under her breath and I just knew she was thinking of burning the store down again. It had caused her more trouble than what it was worth, or at least she thought so. I loved reading. It was my obsession. If I was upset I could always read "Coraline" again. She reminded me of me, except I loved cats.

I have lived with my caretaker, well I don't normally consider her my caretaker, more of an aunt or something similar. It doesn't help she makes me call her Aunt Mildie. Aunt Mildie was probably in her sixties, I didn't exactly know. It isn't something I considered polite to ask.

She took me in after my original adoptive parents died at the hands of an armed robber, not before my adoptive father had called the police. I doubt the robber actually knew that there was a baby in the house. She was the closest relative alive. It makes me wonder if the social care people realized how eccentric the woman they gave me to was? What's so interesting is that I wasn't exactly adopted, but I was left on their doorstep somewhere in November. I seem to have bad luck with parents. My biological parents died, or at least that's what the letter found in my basket says.

I didn't linger on the thought.

"Oh, girl, you're here. Skip doing your math homework and help me sort these." Did I think she was a bad influence on me? Not a bit. Math stands for Mental Abuse To Humans. Aunt Mildie taught me that. I didn't think my math teacher agreed.  
I walked over to the shelf that Aunt Mildie stood at. She turned around, her neon orange dress whipping at my knees. She dropped at least eight moderately sized books into my arms. I could feel my bones scream at me 'Why are you doing this to us! Why!' I toughed out though by balancing the bottom few on my organs, and a little on my ribs. I could handle not being able to breathe for a bit.

"I already have them sorted by republican to democrat, remember keep those who like democrats at the bottom." I am eleven, I don't normally get into politics at my age. I found them interesting and I agreed with most of the main points of both running parties. Just to certain limits and degrees.

"Yes, Aunt Mildie." She didn't hear me and kept walking forward, heading towards the bathroom. I sorted them out of order anyway. Aunt Mildie didn't really care. I doubt she could actually see the author's name on the spine.

I looked at the backpack, it was the middle of July and I was doing homework. Why? I flunked my fifth grade math class. I said books were my life, not boring old math textbooks. Silly people of my subconscious. As long as it isn't math, it wouldn't be going into my fireplace, not that I had a fireplace to put it in. It would be going into my memory.

I could remember almost everything I paid attention to, which isn't much to be honest. I had ADD. Attention Deficit disorder. My doctor said that I showed early symptoms of depression. We didn't have enough money to get me medicine though, so I had to try really hard to pay attention. Which more than often,fails.

It's really limited to books, video games, comics, manga, anime, television. I am your everyday geek and I'm proud of it.

"Finished Aunt Mildie!" I didn't bother to care if she replied. She wouldn't give a darn. I wrote on a piece of torn off paper in large highlighted letters. "AT PARK, BE HOME AT SUNSET." I'd do my homework then.

I grabbed a random book off the shelf and walked outside. Staying only a millisecond to hear the satisfying honk. Aunt Mildie wanted to get a bell, but found she couldn't hear it. So we taped an old bicycle horn up at the top of the door, so far we didn't know how, but it worked.

I had my own little game I played while walking, well more like skipping across the sidewalk, I had to avoid the cracks, the gum, and the old cigarette buds on the concrete. It was a lot harder than it sounds. I finally made my way to the park and purposely sat on the Mary-go-round in hopes of creating a challenge of reading. My weak eleven year old legs helped me spin, at half a mile an hour. Yep, I am a failure.

"Did you see Bradley Augren, he looked at me." I winced at the light-pitched voice bordering on annoying. I then purposely jerked myself off the Mary-go-round, she would not get me here. She won't ruin my peaceful afternoon.

"Did you see that, what a freak!" She was such a snob, I wanted to punch her or at least make her nose bleed a little. Anything to get her off her high horse. "Wait a minute, is that- Oh my god, that's Haggy Maggie!"

I froze and felt the freakishly long fingernails touch my shoulder. I,being the weakling I am, was flipped around like I was a used toothpick. Natalie Watts looked at me with her hooked nose, watery blue eyes, and bleached hair. Was it strange that eleven year/twelve year olds had cliques at this age? My town did?

"Excuse me, but I am a firm believer in the theory that girls have cooties, so just- thank you." I pushed her hand off my shoulder, but I am naturally a polite person so I thanked her for the deep punctures in my shoulder now. Darn my sophisticated and highly mature personality. It must have come from my actual British parents, I don't know how I ended up in a place like America. Couldn't I have gone to Canada or something, weren't they stereotypically pleasant?

"You're so weird Haggy!" She shrieked and looked at her girls for backup only to realize that they were talking to the man of her twelve year old dreams. Bradley Augren. I really didn't understand the fascination with him.

"I prefer the term eccentric, hook." I watched her face ball up in a mixture of anger and sadness. Something ate away at my brain, it gnawed at my emotions. I must not yield. As you can tell most of my actions are complete fails. This is one of them. "I'm so sorry Natalie that was unbelievably low of m-Ow! Did you just hit me." She stared at her hand in awe.

It wasn't a slap, but it most definitely was not a punch. It was like a flop, like her hand had decided it was going to smack my cheek, but it tried to punch my anyway. The flop didn't sting as much as you would think it would. This physical hit came from a girl who probably had ultra-awesome robots to brush her teeth and curl her eyelashes.

Natalie looked at me an insane smile forming on her mouth. Her blue eyes shifted slightly in the direction of her raised hand again. "I think you need to think your actions throu-"Why did I always get interrupted to get physically hurt? My green eyes widened in terror, and I thought geeks were excluded from get beaten up by jocks. I was proved wrong.

Natalie had other girls join in with her, after they gained the confidence. I watched as none of the adults noticed a thing. Well if not noticing meant averting their eyes in shame at not doing anything out of cowardliness. All the kids beating me up were all older than I was, I was born on July thirty-first. So I had barely made it to their year. After an hour of them hitting me until I was bleeding mess, they got tired of not getting a reaction out of me. Sure there were tears, just not the pleas and screams they wanted. I would not give in to sick kids like that.  
I couldn't move for another hour or so. Everything hurt so much. For the first time in my life, I felt pure hate flow through my veins. It was bubbling, spilling over the pot of my usually kept in check emotions. I could feel every bug crawling over me, biting me. I finally eased my arm up and checked my cracked watch. It was nine-thirty at night. This was the time that Aunt Mildie would consider killing me, baking me into a pie, sell me to innocent pedestrians, and laugh as a cop says, "Mmm! What is this delightful ingredient?" and she would say, "I call it my niece Maggie."

I let out a groan and set my arm back down. The pain had finally calmed down to a yelp and not a "OH MY FREAKING GOD! KILL ME TO EASE THE PAIN!" sensation.

I got up anyway and wiped off my jeans and t-shirt. Part of me hoped that Aunt Mildie would be asleep, that part of me was only hoping. That woman doesn't sleep. The pain went from yelping to screaming, still not as bad as it was. Because I am idiot, I tried to skip and make myself feel a little bit happier. Screaming was pure joy compared to what I was now going through.

I made it. Like a slug, but I made it. I looked at the stairs that led to the apartment on top of the store. I let out a cry of frustration that echoed through the quiet town. I immediately covered my mouth and my eyes widened. The light on the side of our small "porch" lit up like little balls of sunshine. Curse my luck.

"Maggie Smith, how dare you worry me like that!" Aunt Mildie had her glasses on, which made everything worse. She took in my appearance and gasped. "Maggie what happened." For a sixty-year old lady whose losing most of her senses, she sure could run fast. As if knowing what happened. She took me in her arms, and showed a rare caring side. It didn't take much, I sobbed into her floral nightgown.

 **I cried while writing this part and I really don't know why. This chapter was really just about telling you what type of person Maggie starts out as. She is ten and has now dealt with verbal and physical bullying. It's sad that this is a real thing that kids do. They gang up on this one defenceless person until they're a bleeding mess and it's sick!**


	2. When Attics Contain Magical Fireplaces

**Title:** Maggie Potter: The girl that wasn't seen.

 **Author:** MarigoldMonarch

 **Summary** : Growing up with a slightly crazy old woman was easy, attempting to become a powerful and recognized witch while being the older twin to a boy who defeated the dark lord at the age of one, not so easy.

 **Author's Note:** I'd like to thank my two reviewers, chinaglaze and The VII Duchess. You two really wanted to help out and you did, so I thank you looking at my story and giving it a chance.

* * *

Chapter Title: When Attics Contain Magical Fireplaces

Maggie P.O.V.

I stared down at the bowl of cereal in distaste, the mushy cheerios fell apart in the milk. I got out of my chair and picked up my bowl. "Don't think I didn't notice your full plate last night Maggie." Aunt Mildie looked up from her paper, gravity had pushed her glasses down to the very end of her nose. She pushed them up with her index finger. "You have to eat." She said it as if it were so easy. It wasn't.

"I wasn't hungry." I try to justify my actions. I didn't feel a shred of hunger, it worried me. I tugged at the hair band around my wrist.

"You can't let what those awful kids did to you get into your head. I might be crazier than your average aunt, but I taught you to respect yourself. Don't let those kids tell you that you're not special, because you are." She then calmly lifted up the newspaper and continued to read as if nothing had just happened.  
I placed my bowl back on the table and sat down again. I lifted the spoon and dipped it into the mixture of milk and cheerios. I glanced at Aunt Mildie as I lifted the spoon into my mouth.

It didn't fulfill my appetite as it should have. I did it for Aunt Mildie though, no matter how disgusting the cheerios felt in my mouth.

Peck. I paused in my eating, something had tapped on the window. Maybe it was my imagination? I craned my head towards the curtain covered window. Peck. Yep, it was not my mind playing tricks on me. I got up from the table and walked over to the window. I pulled back the curtains. There, right behind the glass, was a barn owl. It was perched on the stone ledge, next to the dead plants that had been out there for who knows how long.

It was shocking to see the owl so early in the morning, they are nocturnal creatures, I was something wrapped around it's leg. It took me a second, but I opened up the latch and pulled up the window. The owl hooted in delight and flew inside the house.  
"Why is there an owl in my house, Maggie."Aunt Mildie had chosen this moment to look up from her paper. She didn't sound angry.  
"There's a letter on it's leg."I motioned to the letter that was kept on by a maroon colored ribbon. She nodded and her eyes zoomed in on the letter. I untied the ribbon from it's held out leg and grabbed the letter. There was an emblem of four animals on the letter, a lion, a snake, a badger and an eagle. I opened it, and out came two pieces of paper- no parchment.

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL_  
 _of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_  
 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_  
 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_  
 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_  
 _Dear Miss Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._  
 _Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._  
 _Yours sincerely,_  
 _Minerva McGonagall_  
 _Deputy Headmistress_

It all made sense in a way. The accidents that had happened over the years. Things have happened around me, strange things. That didn't make it even less silly sounding. Who in the world was Miss Potter? My name is Maggie Smith.

I grasped the second paper and turned it around to look at it.

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL_  
 _of WHICHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_  
 _UNIFORM_  
 _First-year students will require:_  
 _sets of plain work robes (black)_  
 _plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_  
 _pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_  
 _winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)_  
 _Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags._

 _COURSE BOOKS_

 _All students should have a copy of each of the following:_  
 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_  
 _by Miranda Goshawk_  
 _A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_  
 _Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_  
 _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_  
 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_  
 _by Phyllida Spore_  
 _Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_  
 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_  
 _by Newt Scamander_  
 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_  
 _by Quentin Trimble_  
 _OTHER EQUIPMENT_  
 _1 wand_  
 _1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_  
 _1 set glass or crystal phials_  
 _1 telescope_  
 _1 set brass scales_  
 _Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad._  
 _PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

"Aunt Mildie I think you need to take a look at this." Aunt Mildie pushed her glasses up once more and got up. She leaned over my shoulder and took the letters.

"I guess we're going to England." She smiled at her own statement. Why was she so happy?

"How are you so calm?" I questioned, this should be a shock. It was a shock for me.

"My great-grandmother was a squib." She looked at my confused expression. "A squib is someone whose parents are magical and they are not. She told me about all of her adventures."

I frowned, did that mean she knew? She knew about me being a witch. "Did you Aunt Mildie?" I blurted our without thinking. "Did you know?"

"I had my suspicions. It could have easily been another child performing all those accidents." She assured me. On one hand I was excited to be a witch, and on the other, I was upset at the thought of her keeping something so crucial from me.

"So how exactly are we going to do that?" I asked Aunt Mildie. Plane tickets were expensive, especially to someplace like London. I lived in Georgia, I should know.

"Do you know how old this building is?" Aunt Mildie started to explain, "It's been around since eighteen-seventy three. My grandmother's grandparents bought this house just after they were married. Many things were installed for the average wizard life." She pointed up to the ceiling, where the attic lay up above. "All up there, no one that wasn't a wizard or a witch could get up there. My great-grandmother told me how she would always try to sneak in after her parents had went to bed. I won't be able to get up there, but you can."

* * *

 **-Third Person-**

Maggie pulled herself up into the attic, Aunt Mildie lifted up the half full duffel bag into the room and Maggie gripped the bag and with a big tug she got it up there with her. This 'room ' was bigger than the apartment itself. Maggie looked at the table to the right of her. It was covered in books, but one thing stood out in particular. A long wooden wand. It was a dark brown color and Maggie reached for it. It tingled in her hands. She gripped it and put it in her jacket. It could come in handy. A small chest was also on the table. It was open, in it was quite a few golden coin-like objects. She took the whole box.

Apparently there was a fireplace in the house. Maggie stared at it. A small pot sat beside it, untouched for at least ninety years. Aunt Mildie told her about the floo. Her memory was sharper than ever about all the wizarding stuff, apparently it was too interesting to forget.

One of the more famous shopping alleys, Diagon Alley, was the place she needed to go. She had finished packing her bags with all the items she considered necessary. One of the books, "The Ways Of A True Wizard Or Witch", she would have to read it to fit in with all of the actual witches and wizards. She picked up a handful of the green sand and said loud and clear, "Diagon Alley!"

 **So I am a bit worried about this chapter. Second chapters are never my best. This chapter is short compared to my other one, but I try to always get it above one thousand words.**


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